


In Plain Sight

by Resistant_Raisin



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Beta'd, Depression, Eating Disorder, Triggers, updated bi-weekly or weekly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-03-16 23:30:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3506741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resistant_Raisin/pseuds/Resistant_Raisin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>None of the nations could see what was going on right in front of their eyes. Despite witnessing some of their own people suffer the exact same way. The signs, the warnings, were too isolated. They each have a piece of a giant puzzle that they didn't now about yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. England

_Warning #1_

_England_

As fryers in the back of the small, over-packed restaurant popped and sizzled, they released the smell of hot grease that tainted the air, barely managing to mask the stale stench of bleach drifting from the restrooms. Small, grubby, gum infested tables were overflowing with fatty food and crammed with noisy families and couples. Fussing children and irritated adults waited anxiously in line, filling the path constructed by cheap plastic stands and black ropes

Sticking out like a sore thumb, was a paranoid British man dressed formally in black dress pants, a crisp white shirt, and an immaculate pinstriped waistcoat. Fitting in with the crowd perfectly, was a beaming American dressed casually in blue jeans, a wrinkled pale blue t-shirt with an image of Captain America's shield in the center, and a worn brown leather jacket.

Tightly gripping the American's shoulder, the Englishman pulled him close and whispered harshly in his ear, "Alfred, why the bloody hell do we have to eat here?"

The American, Alfred, laughed heartily and shrugged off his friend's grip, not caring about the other's secretive manner. "Come on, Iggy! Everybody loves Mccy D's!"

"I told you not to call me that. It's Arthur; not Iggy, not Eyebrows, not bro. It's Arthur," The Englishman, Arthur, growled, ducking his head slightly and leaned forward, still keeping his voice low. "And everybody does not love 'Mccy D's.' We as nations should have a little more self-respect to eat a decent meal-"

"Haha! Dude, what's up with all the super-secret stuff?"

"If any one of your Americans hears or is even suspicious of me questioning or insulting this manky restaurant, they'll eat me alive." After this statement, Arthur glanced at the customers in line in front of him and behind him as if they would suddenly lunge for him.

"Seriously? All this super-secret whispering you're doing is attracting more attention than you ranting about the food. Calm your tits."

At this, Arthur immediately stood up straight and adjusted his waistcoat as he cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably at the curious stares he attracted from the other patrons.

"Next," the brightly dressed clerk barked. The tone of his voice made it obvious that he would rather be anywhere else in the world right now than at his work.

Alfred dragged Arthur forward, in front of the bulky cash register. "Sup, dude! How's -"

"What would you like to order?"

"-it going?"

The young cashier gave a blank stare before flashing a sarcastic grin. "Peachy. Now, what would-"

"Aw, don't make that face. Everything's going to suck if you look like that!"

The clerk turned red at Alfred's potential insult and cheery attitude. "Do you want some food or not?"

"Totally, I'll have a Number Two!"

"Small, medium, or large?"

"Large!"

Reaching under the counter and slamming a large plastic cup that advertised a football game onto the marble print counter, the clerk drummed his fingers along the cash register impatiently. "That'll be $3.56."

Alfred stuck his tongue out of the side of his mouth in concentration as he dug deep in his jean's pockets for cash. Letting out a gasp of victory, he pulled out a crumpled five dollar bill and handed it to the cashier with a beaming smile. "Keep the change."

"Lucky me," the cashier replied sarcastically as he put the money in the register with a loud clink as coins rattled against each other. "Name?"

"The hero!" Alfred answered proudly as he grabbed his cup.

Arthur scoffed and shoved Alfred away from the counter, sending him reeling toward the soda fountain. Rolling his eyes, Arthur turned toward the cashier. "His name's Alfred, and please excuse his idiotic tendencies."

"I'm not allowed to directly insult customers," the cashier replied blandly. "What would you like to order?"

"Er, I'll take the same as him, I suppose. Oh, but half that size."

"Small?"

"Huh?"

"You mean small?"

"Oh, yes."

"That'll be $2.31."

Arthur smoothly pulled out a wallet from his back pocket and retrieved a crisp five dollar bill.

"Keep the extra money," he said as he handed the money to the clerk, offering a quiet thank you as he was given a small plastic cup in return.

"Today's just my lucky day, isn't it. Name?"

"Arthur."

The clerk flashed a deadly glare at Alfred and Arthur as they turned their backs to him and approached the soda fountain.

"Dumb-asses," he muttered before looking at the line of customers, "Next!"

**XxXxXxXxX**

Arthur grimaced as Alfred pulled him closer to the soda fountain. Colorful buttons lined the front, just above leaking nozzles, and the entire machine hummed dangerously with energy.

"Alfred," Arthur began as he shifted from foot to foot skeptically, glancing at the American who was already loading up on ice and Mountain Dew. "There's no bloody way I'm going near that thing."

"Aw, come on man," Alfred pleaded as he popped a plastic lid over his drink and reached for a paper covered straw. "Don't be like that. Just get something already, you're holding up the line."

Arthur glanced back and saw that there was in fact a line of four people waiting anxiously behind him. "It's shaking dangerously and all there that's offered are those sugary, caffeinated drinks."

"What do you expect? It's called a soda fountain for a reason. God," Alfred snatched his companion's cup from him and handed his own to Arthur. He quickly filled the cup and began to drag the Englishman away, apologizing over his shoulder to the patrons behind them. "Sorry, you guys! He's just a stuck up foreigner."

"Who are you calling stuck up, you babbling twit?! You're the one that refuses to eat my country's food."

"Haha! That's because I don't want to be sent into a coma like Feli."

"Have you seen the lad? With how feeble and frail he is, he most likely got sick from being around your country's pollution for so long," Arthur retorted, glaring at the nation.

Finally making it to a red and yellow table and sitting across from each other on plastic covered benches, the two slammed their drinks down, almost spilling them.

"Hey, my pollution isn't that bad-" Alfred argued but Arthur cut him off mid-sentence.

"Oh please, I could smell bread exhaust from the Subway across the street."

"Whatever, man." Alfred scowled a look that he could only have mastered by being raised by the Englishman. "Here, I got you that tea you're so obsessed with." He traded cups with Arthur and began to twirl its red straw around his finger.

Arthur stubbornly crossed his arms and glared at his drink and then Alfred. "This is not tea and I'm not obsessed, cheeky bastard."

"Dude, chillax; it's ice tea." Alfred stopped fiddling with the straw, anxious from the rising tension.

"I am not drinking that."

"Geez, don't be an asshat. I was being considerate; I mean I could have gotten you Dr. Pepper or something like that."

"I don't care. The fact that it's not hot makes me cringe and the thought of it being instant only makes me feel worse."

"Fuck y-"

"Alfred! Arthur!" A robotic voice announced from the front counter, halting the argument.

Distracted by the prospect of food, Alfred forgot about the squabble and let out a hoot of joy. "Sweet! Come on, Iggy! Let's get some grub!"

Before he could react, Alfred wrapped a strong grip around Arthur's wrist and pulled him from his seat.

"Let go of me, you muppet. You're going to dislocate my shoulder," Arthur commanded as he was dragged through the crowd of people, to the front counter.

"Here ya go!" Alfred shoved a red plastic tray overflowing with french fries and a single plainly wrapped hamburger in the center into Arthur's arms just as he was able to recover his balance from the abrupt halt.

"Bloody git," Arthur whispered harshly as he stormed back through the sea of patrons, leaving Alfred to follow along cheerfully.

"Gah!"

Alfred's foot slid beneath his body as he nicked the edge of another customer's foot. Toppling forward, he landed on the tile floor with a heavy thud. With a loud clatter, his plastic tray hit the floor and flung his greasy food across the restaurant; french fries scattered across the ground and under tables a few feet away. His hamburger's wax paper covering was halfway opened to reveal a limp burger now covered in dust bunnies and a few strands of hair.

As Alfred rubbed the side of his pounding head with a groan, he could feel every person in the restaurant immediately freeze and stare at him. Blinking away stars from his eyes, he looked up and saw a spotless pair of black and white oxfords.

"Barmpot..." Arthur sighed as he offered a hand.

Alfred grunt as he allowed Arthur to pull him up. Standing up, he took off his glasses and used the hem of his shirt to wipe away ketchup that managed to splatter the lenses.

"Shit... My Mccy D's..." Alfred mourned, looking like a puppy who had just been kicked.

"Well, this wouldn't have happened if you got your head out of the clouds for once and paid attention."

"Sorry, I was too busy thinking about what you would look like with normal eyebrows."

Arthur shoved his friend playfully. "Say that again and I'll push you back down."

"Wow," a sarcastic voice interrupted. "You guys are just making my day perfect." The nations turned to see their cheerful friend, the clerk, trudging toward them with a broom and dust pan in hand.

"Oh," Alfred rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sorry about that, bro. Ya need any help?"

"Thanks, but no thanks, Captain America. I think I can handle it myself."

Arthur pulled Alfred away before he could rant on about how he truly was the hero and it was his job to help every citizen.

"Well, go on," Arthur said with a wave of his hand as he slid into booth. "Get some more food." Arthur glanced cautiously at his burger and fries. "If you could consider it that."

Alfred slid into his seat across from his ex-caretaker. "Nah, I'm good."

Arthur looked up from his process of unwrapping his hamburger and raised a bushy eyebrow. "Lad, if you don't eat now I doubt you'll survive 'til the end of the meeting."

Alfred crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "Dude, contrary to what apparently everybody else thinks, I don't eat twenty-four seven."

"Touchy today, aren't we..." Arthur teased as he inspected a french fry before tentatively biting off a small piece. Wiping the grease and salt from his hands, he reached for his back pocket. "Here, I'll give you some money, but you have to pay me back or I swear I won't ever give you another episode of Sherlock."

Alfred shook his head, absentmindedly playing with his drink. "No thanks, man. I already owe Yao enough money; I don't need to be even more in debt."

Arthur stared at the other nation for a long moment before return his wallet to his pocket. "Fine, but don't come begging to me when you're hungry."

"As if, I'd rather visit that commie's place than eat your food. Just hurry up and stop looking at the hamburger like it's from way outer space and eat already."

"Your brains in way outer space," Arthur snapped before staring at his limp burger and taking a hesitant bite. Pleasantly surprised that he hadn't spontaneously dropped dead, he took another bite.

The rest of the meal passed in silence as Arthur slowly at his french fries and hamburger, but didn't touch his drink, and Alfred fiddled with his straw and played Angry Birds on his IPhone.

Tossing his half eaten burger down onto the last few fries, Arthur sighed and wiped his hands on a flimsy napkin. "Shall we go?"

Throwing his head back with a groan, Alfred pocketed his phone and piled Arthur's and his drink onto the other nation's tray. "Finally, god, took you long enough. Let's blow this joint."

Arthur rolled his eyes and followed Alfred as he dumped the trash into the garbage and stacked the tray on top of the bin.

"See ya later, Clerk Guy!" Alfred waved before leaving the restaurant.

"Blimey," Arthur growled as they stepped outside, using a hand to shield his eyes as he looked up at the rain pouring down. "I could've sworn there wasn't a cloud in sight just a minute ago. You're not upset about that stupid hamburger are you?"

Alfred merely shrugged began to walk away. Glancing back, a mischievous glint suddenly appeared in his sky blue eyes. "Hey, Iggy, last one to the meeting's a rotten egg!"

"You git!" Arthur shrieked as Alfred took off into the busy city street before sprinting after him. "If I'm going to follow your childish antics at least be fair about it!"

"Ha! Catch me if you can, lobster!"

"Yankee!"


	2. Lithuania

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> None of the nations could see what was going on right in front of their eyes. Despite witnessing some of their own people suffer the exact same way. The signs, the warnings, were too isolated. They each have a piece of a giant puzzle that they didn't now about yet.

_Warning #2_

_Lithuania_

Toris Laurinaitis was dozing in and out of sleep when a faint sound tickled his ears. Rolling over, he moaned and covered his head with the plain white pillow to block out the persistent noise. Unfortunately for him, his time spent living under the dangerous care of Ivan had forced him to heighten his senses and the rhythmic sound of pounding feet and the hum of electricity continued to echo into his bedroom and penetrate his makeshift earplugs.

With an annoyed sigh, he flung his forest green covers off and swung his legs off the edge of the bed, slipping on a pair of wicked hipster pink slippers (a gift from his good friend Feliks, who wouldn't take no for an answer and refused to call them any other color) that clashed drastically with his grey and white striped pajamas. Glancing at the digital alarm clock on his nightstand, he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. It was 1:02 in the morning, an ungodly hour for any one to be awake. Even more peculiar was that the only other occupant in the house, the personification of America, normally went to sleep by ten in the evening and didn't wake until the early afternoon.

The Lithuanian hesitantly peeked his head out into the hallway, fear creeping up on him. The setting reminded him too much of his stay in Russia; the entire house was dark with only pale moon light seeping in from the windows to guide him, the floorboards creaking and moaning with each step no matter how light you were, weapons and flags mounted on the walls to remind other nations of their power and evolution. He prudently shuffled through the hallways and down four flights of stairs, glancing over his shoulder and generally looking like the stupidly brave and paranoid main character of a horror movie (as his roommate often said when he caught Toris cautiously sneaking to the bathroom in the middle of the night), until he eventually wound up in the chilly basement. Pushing open the glass door at the farthest end of the hall, he found the source of the sound that awoke him.

Among the bulky weight lifting equipment and red, worn boxing bags, was Alfred with his back facing Toris steadily jogging on a treadmill that faced the basement's white concrete wall. His labored breaths barely managed to keep up with the abnormally fast pace he ran at, though every once in a while he would heavily swallow and gasp for air. His baggy shorts and t-shirt, both thoroughly soaked with sweat, were just short enough to show unusually knobby knees and elbows. Despite his hair matting to his burning forehead and neck, which turned a shade darker than Toris's from perspiration, his cowlick remained sticking up at an odd angle.

"M-Mr. America, what are you doing?" Toris called tentatively, trying to be louder than the upbeat music that blared out of the American's ear-buds. When his question went unheard, he cautiously crossed the room and tapped Alfred's shoulder. "Mr. America-"

"Jesus Christ!" Alfred jumped two feet in the air at the other nation's touch. He landed back on the treadmill with his feet crossed at an odd angle, causing him to fell onto his back and roll to his side as the conveyer belt pulled him over the edge.

"AAHH! I'm so sorry!" Toris shrieked as he rushed to help Alfred up.

Alfred moaned and rubbed the back of his pounding head.

"Geez, Toris, you scared the shit out of me," he groaned, pausing after every other word to control his strained breathing.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. America!" Toris frantically apologized, dropping to his knees so he was at Alfred's level and inspecting the new red burns on the other nation's elbows and knees.

"Gah! Not there-" Alfred arched his back away from Toris's gentle touch as his roommate unintentionally squished sweat from his shirt into his new scrape on his shoulder blade.

"Quickly, let's dress your wounds," Toris urged, grabbing his friend's bicep and trying to pull him up and to the nearest bathroom.

Alfred licked his parched lips and shook his head, waving a hand in dismissal. "No-" Another gasp for breath. "I'm-" Gasp. "-fine."

Toris bite his bottom lip and awkwardly stared at Alfred for a moment before hesitantly pulling back into himself and sitting beside the other personification. He pulled his legs to his chest and rested his chin on his knees as he watched Alfred finally control his breathing and tuck his head between his knees and lock his fingers behind his head.

The two wordlessly stared at the humming treadmill, the only sound in the room other than the muffled sound of a male screaming about sleep and booming bass drum drifting from the forgotten iPod that had fallen underneath the treadmill.

After a few minutes, Toris shifted his head so that his left cheek was on his knee and he was facing Alfred. "Mr. America-"

"Alfred," The nation interrupted bluntly, not looking away from the treadmill. "I told you before, Mr. America makes me feel old; call me Alfred."

"R-Right... Alfred... What were you doing?"

"What does it look like? I was running."

"In the middle of the night?"

Alfred glanced up at Toris before staring at the ground. "Yeah, I didn't have time earlier today, so I figured why not now?"

"...But you went to bed at ten."

"I forgot about it and hit the sack, but then I woke up and started getting anxious about not doing it."

"Oh..." Toris lifted his head up as he began tense, all the while not breaking his stare. "Do you always push yourself this hard?"

"I guess."

"Hmph... You're a terrible liar." Alfred merely shrugged. "You know I used to live with Mr. Rus- I mean, Ivan."

Alfred scowled, muttering "commie bastard," under his breath.

"Every night I would have to sleep with one eye open to make sure Eduard, Raivis, and I didn't get taken by Ivan again," Toris whispered as if he might be thrown back in time again if he spoke of the memories loud enough. "... Take us to help him 'color' as he called it."

"I'm sorry," Alfred whispered back, remaining motionless like a statue.

"It was a long time ago." He instinctively reached for the scars on his back. "Anyways, I never shook the habit; it became a part of me, I guess."

"... I'm sorry,"

"I still hear things at night; clocks ticking, leaves rustling, owls hooting, you getting up."

"You hear me whenever I take a piss?" Alfred couldn't help but let out a strangled chuckle, a hint of a smile played on his lips before fading back into a hollow expression.

Toris turned bright red. "T-That's not the point. What I'm saying is that I know you've been doing this since the last world meeting.  _A week_."

"And you only came to investigate now?" Alfred questioned, raising an eyebrow as he finally unlocked his fingers and lifted his head up.

"I didn't want it to be true," he replied with a shrug.

"You don't want me to exercise?"

"Don't play dumb with me."

"I'm just taking everybody else's advice," Alfred said solemnly, ending the conversation as he suddenly stood up with a shake of his head. The Lithuanian could only watch him trudge out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.

Once again, sounds surrounded Toris Laurinaitis; the fading footsteps of Mr. America retreating upstairs, the hum of electricity coming from the running treadmill, the shrill music from the music player, the sudden pitter-patter of rain drops outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I know this chapter is a little early, but I wanted to post it before school starts back up and I get busy again. I also realize it's significantly shorter than the last one, but eh.  
> Thank you for all of the Kudos and Bookmarks!


	3. France

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> None of the nations could see what was going on right in front of their eyes. Despite witnessing some of their own people suffer the exact same way. The signs, the warnings, were too isolated. They each have a piece of a giant puzzle that they didn't now about yet.

_Warning #3_

_France_

Meeting never went well with countries for four main reasons:

1) Whenever more than two countries got together, chaos was inevitable. There was no reason for this chaos, it just happened as if fate had written in its rule book that something had to go wrong.

2) Meetings were depressing. Personifications already had to deal with the deaths of their citizens and world problems 24/7, discussing them for eight hours was too much stress.

3) Meetings were boring. On good days, nations would actually get to the portion of the meeting where they would make presentations about the current topic. Unfortunately, their presentations usually consisted of long, monotone speeches and bland graphs and notes projected on to the wall.

4) ADHD! The majority of nations had it and those who didn't were too quiet or disinterested to cease the chaos (besides Ludwig of course).

This particular G8 meeting didn't even have time to attempt to disprove any of these excuses. As soon as the last nation entered, pandemonium and unproductivity erupted.

The double doors burst open and slammed into the wall as Alfred rammed through them with a hawk like screech. "Boom baby! Let's get this party started!"

"Alfred, you're late," Ludwig snarled with a roll of his eyes. His face of annoyance matched the other nations that sat around the long rectangular table; save Italy, who was beaming and happily doodling on the papers in front of him, and Japan, who remained as stoic as ever.

"Sorry, dude, I slept in and got caught up with some other stuff," Alfred explained coolly with a shrug, strolling over to his rolling chair next to Arthur as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"Whatever it was, it must've been really important because you look like crap," Feli observed, intending no harm but actually causing Alfred to flinch. "Almost like a skeleton!"

"Yeah, well I didn't get much sleep last night,  _hence_  me sleeping in and missing breakfast," he replied irritably as he sat down.

"Ve~! No wonder you eat so much then! If missing breakfast makes you look like that then you'd be a skinny, skinny skeleton if you didn't eat anything all day!"

"You could've at least called one of us," Arthur growled as he slapped Alfred upside the head, causing the latter to wince and flash a sharp glare. "Honestly, I don't think I can take much more of this rubbish American lifestyle or the bloody frog; I'm still recovering from that World Meeting from two weeks ago," the Brit finished with a mumble, crossing his arms grumpily.

"You wound me, Angleterre!" Francis cried, placing a hand over his heart with a dramatic toss of his head, feigning being shot.

" _You_  can-"

"HEY!" Ludwig billowed before a brawl could break out between the two. "Everybody needs to be quiet if we are too start this G8 meeting!" Arthur shot Frenchman a milk curdling glare and Francis blew a kiss at the Englishman before the two turned their backs towards each other. "Good, now our first agenda of the day is-"

A tentative, monotone voice cut Ludwig off. "Um, Ludwig-san?"

"Yes, Kiku?" the German sighed, hoping that the personification of Japan would say something sensible.

"If this is a G8 meeting then why are there only seven of us?"

"Really?" Ludwig raised an eyebrow at Kiku, confusion lacing his voice. Only given a short, silent nod in return, he turned around to count off heads, pointing at each nation as he went along. "Ein, zwei, drei, vier, fünf, sechs, seiben... Ja, you're right. Everybody call out their name!"

"Feliciano Vargos, ve~!"

"Kiku Honda."

"Francis Bonnefoy~!"

"GAH! Get your hands off me, you bloody frog!"

"Ohonon, Arthur Kirkland is here as well~!"

"Alfred F. Jones is here and that's all that matters!"

"Ivan Braginsky."

"Hmph, that only makes seven." Ludwig pondered, frowning and rubbing his chin in thought.

"Perhaps, we are missing Yao, da?" Ivan chimed with a childish smile.

"No way, commie, you only want it to be!" Alfred retorted, jabbing an accusing finger at the Russian sitting across from him.

"What would a fat capitalist pig like you know? Kolkolkolkolkolkolkol..."

Italy shot up from his chair, waving his arms above his head frantically. "Silenzio! I think I heard something!"

"Oh my god! Fortress! Now!" Alfred yelped, scrambling from his chair and leaping across the table, knocking over several ceramic coffee mugs and scattering papers in the process. Tumbling off the table to the floor, he crouched down on the balls of his feet, pulling Kiku's chair from it's spot next to the table and across the room. Back against the wall, Alfred positioned the chair in front of him so he could use it and it's occupant as a shield. "I swear to god, Kiku, if this is another one of you're creepy ghosts I'm going to-"

"Be quiet!" Ludwig hissed, effectively silencing everyone.

All personifications froze and held their breaths, cocking their heads and straining their ears to try and pick up the slightest noise. After a minute they finally heard a faint, almost in audible whisper. "...Excuse me, but I've been here the entire time."

Tracking the voice back to the source, they all turned their heads to the empty chair at the farthest end of the table. Squinting intently, another nation slowly began to take shape in the rays of light drifting in from the window behind the figure.

Alfred wrinkled his eyebrows together and the corners of his lips turned down in uncertainly and confusion. "Is that... me?"

"No, you stupid American!" Francis scolded Alfred as he lunged for the newly found nation and engulfed him in a bone-crushing hug. "This is my petite Matheiu~!"

"Matthew? Oh, yeah! My big bro from my hat, or Canadia, or whatever!" Alfred exclaimed excitedly like a puppy being offered a bone, suddenly shooting up from his 'fortress'.

"No no no no no-" Kiku pleaded the American, hysterically gripping the rolling chair's arm rests tightly and frantically shook his head. Unfortunately, his begging was ignored and he could only let out a shriek as he was shoved away. Being launched across the room at a terrifying speed, he struck the wall at full force, and ricocheted off.

"Uuuugh, I'm going back into isolation," he groaned, clutching the top of his head that had crashed through the dry wall as he crawled under his fallen chair so that only the lower half of his body was sticking out.

"Nooo! Kiku!" Feli wailed with tears in his eyes as he dashed over to his friend, dragging Ludwig along behind him. "Ludwig, you have to make him feel, better okay?"

"Francis, you're breaking my ribs," Matthew whimpered, slapping his ex-caretaker's shoulder hopelessly as colorful dots danced across his eyes. Alas, Alfred's booming laughter demolished the Canadian's chance at being heard.

"Wow, Francis," Arthur remarked in surprise as he went over to get a closer look at the new-found personification. "How on earth could someone like  _you_ remember him?"

"I take that as a compliment," Francis replied, releasing Matthew to face Arthur with a theatrical twirl. "It's simple really, we have the same sexy hair, but his is not nearly as cool as mine! See?" He wrapped an arm around Matthew pulling the shy nation up to his height, half dragging him out of his chair, to wave a hand back and forth between the two's hair. "See? Isn't it obvious?"

Matthew squirmed under the Frenchman's strong grip. "Thanks for noticing me and all, but please let me go..."

"There are also big differences between him and Alfred!"

"Woah!" Alfred cried as Francis yanked him next to Matthew by the collar of his bomber jacket. "Back off, Frenchie! Go release your sexual tensions somewhere else!"

"Ohonon, in you're dreams, fly boy! Now shut it, I'm teaching Arthur about fashion," Francis snapped before turning his attention back to Arthur, who was immensely regretting his decision to come over. "As you can see, Matheiu's hair is long and sexy and amazing like mine while Alfred's is short and punkish and stupid like yours."

Arthur turned red at the taunt. "Listen here, pepe le pew-"

"Oh! Alfred, why didn't I notice earlier?! What on is wrong with you're hair?!" The French nation continued rambling, oblivious to his frenemy's shouts. "You have patches all over-"

"Hey!" Alfred rebeled as he attempted to wiggle out of Francis's headlock. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"There's one here, and here, and- oh my, you couldn't possibly be getting _old_ , could you?"

"Yo, enough with the teasing. Nebraska and Oklahoma are just having a drought, that's all! So shut up and leave me-"

"Goodness, your skin's so dry too," Francis observed as he began to use his free hand to poke at Alfred's forehead, frowning at the flakes of skin sticking to his finger. "All those trashy sodas are probably dehydrating you, non?"

"I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

_BOOM!_

_CRACK!_

A sudden flash of lightning blinded everybody in the room for an instant as the towering windows allowed the blinding white light to enter. The deafening clap of thunder, and crack of electricity as it went out that immediately followed the lightning, drowned out the yelps of surprise that escaped everyone and scared them stiff. The pitch black shadows of raindrops and the dull lights of cars on the bustling street mixed together to make the room look like an ancient reel of black and white film was being projected into the room.

"Excuse me," Alfred whispered hastily, easily brushing off Francis's suddenly loose grip.

Francis couldn't help but wish there was enough light for him to see Alfred's expression as he numbly watched the American let one of the double doors shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... Not my best work... But, I'm pretty satisfied by it. Opinions?  
> Thank you all for the support! I honestly didn't think this story would get this much recognition. Thanks a lot!


	4. Russia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> None of the nations could see what was going on right in front of their eyes. Despite witnessing some of their own people suffer the exact same way. The signs, the warnings, were too isolated. They each have a piece of a giant puzzle that they didn't now about yet.

_Warning #4_

_Russia_

Ivan Braginski genuinely believed that he was damned to be alone forever; to walk across the abyss of blinding white snow by himself.

At the beginning, when he was just an innocent child, whenever an animal or fellow nation would shy away from his cold touch there was always a sharp tug at his heart like an invisible string was tugging it closer and closer to his ribs and out his chest. As the years past, when he had grown into the (more or less) corrupt adult he was today, that feeling never left and there was always a dull ache from the pressure inside his rib cage.

As cruel and sadistic as every other personification seemed to think, he  _did_  have a heart- one that fell out and got lost both literally and figuratively but a heart none the less. So, it did pain him when he saw the same godforsaken punishment begin to bloom in the heart of another nation, whether they had it coming or not. This was why he followed America out of the meeting, through the lavish light hallways and into the dimly lit men's restroom.

The pops and rumbles of thunder were silenced as Ivan closed the heavy wooden door behind him and locked it with a gentle click. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door, tilting his head up thoughtfully. His violet eyes never wavered as he stared at Alfred, who was heaving over the single porcelain sink near the toilet, clutching the sides until his knuckles turned white.

"What do you want, commie?" Alfred growled, his eyes flickering away from his gaunt reflection to glance at the Russian through the mirror.

Ivan stood up straight, narrowing his blank expression into a thoughtful one as he looked up at the plain tile ceiling as if it would help him find the right words. "There are many things I want... The thing that I want most though is for everyone to become one."

The American shook his head and rose from his hunch to glare at Ivan. "Dude, if this is some insane ass plan to murder me, it's not going to happen. You  _can't_  kill me, you've already tried and it doesn't work. _Nothing_   _works_." _  
_

Ivan waved his hands in a dismissive manner as he took a slow step towards the other personification. "That's not what I meant-"

"Oh? Oooh... In  _that_  case, then I'm sure Natalia would be more than happy to-"

"Finish that sentence and I will end you, da?" the Russian snapped dangerously. Opening his mouth to spit an insult about the intelligence of Americans, he quickly thought better of it. He was here to extinguish the fire, not fuel. "Not that either, what I meant is that I want to have many..." Another few steps and a nervous twitch of the corner his lip."... friends."

"Yeah?" Alfred scoffed and crossed his arms defensively. After a moment, a devious smirk formed, looking awkward and tight against his sharp cheekbones and sunken eyes. "I'll trade ya mine for your solitude."

Another few steps and Ivan was face to face to the other nation, having to pitch his head downward slightly to look each other in the eye. He shook his head in disappointment.

"This is what I do not agree upon. Yoooou," he drilled his gloved finger into the center Alfred's forehead. "need to be more grateful."

"No thanks," The American slapped away his hand with a scowl. He began to sidestep Ivan, but was halted when the Russian's arm shot, his fingertips brushing the plain white walls.

A childish smile grew on Ivan's as he slowly shook his head as if he couldn't believe Alfred's level of ignorance. After a tense moment he said in a sickly sweet voice: "You do not know what you speak of, comrade."

"Oh yeah?  _Enlighten_ me," Alfred demanded harshly, not moving from his spot beside the Russian.

"As  _much_  as I would like to see all of you crying on the ground like small child, I would not wish this sort of pain upon my worst enemy. As personifications, we harbor every feeling that every one of our citizens feel. Unfortunately, the most prominent one is pain and suffering, but you already know this, da?"

Alfred's glare hardened. "No shit, Sherlock. Have you  _seen_  the state I'm in?"

Ignoring the jab, Ivan continued. "I know from observation that no matter how much any of you may deny it, you rely on each other for support almost daily; whether it's releasing your emotions through insulting each other or loving one another. But imagine having nobody to turn to. Imagine having everything bottled up inside you. It's like... how would you Americans describe it? Shaking one of those bubbly sugar drinks with the lid still on?"

"It's called pop, commie. And what the hell would you about how  _I'm_  feeling? You're supposed be alone remember," Alfred snapped, ducking underneath the Russian's arm, the other embodiment merely twisting his head to watch Alfred's back.

Turning around and taking slow steps backward, the American eyed Ivan and continued to speak in a provoking, sing-song manner. "If you're all alone how could you possibly understand others? It's all in your head, bro."

With that, Alfred spun around on his heel and unlocked the lavatory door. Just as his spindly hand wrapped around the metal handle and began to pull, he felt the door be forced shut under his grip. He remained still as he felt the room drop to a freezing temperature and an icy breath whisper in his ear, gently rustling his hair and traveling down the side his neck.

With his arm placed above Alfred's head, pinning the door shut, Ivan brought his face close to Alfred so that his lips were an inch away from the other nation's ear.

"Let me promise you this, foolish America," the cold nation whispered menacingly. The corners of his lips momentarily were tugged upward as he sensed a shiver run through Alfred. "If anything happens to you, whether you become isolated or pull some idiotic stunt even remotely close to what I described, I will  _kill_  you, bring you back to life, kill you again. Finally, bring you back so you can get back onto the path you were meant to travel. My Lithuania has told me about the strange happenings in your home. Since I have only told you my rules just now, I will let you go with a warning, da?"

Leaning away from Alfred and standing up straight, Ivan lowered his hand down and gave Alfred's upper arm a solid flick.

Alfred instantly released an anguish scream, his legs buckled beneath him and causing him to lean against the wall for support. He sputtered out small cries and gasped short breaths as he slide down the wall until he was sitting on his floor. All the while, he hovered a hand over his mangled right arm, letting out a choked gasp when he lightly touched his injured limb, feeling jagged barbs of shattered bone threatening to pierce his skin.

Showing no hint of compunction, Ivan stared down at Alfred as if he were a piece of garbage discarded on the beach.

"Aren't you supposed to be a superpower? As strong as your military? As strong as your mountains? Now, your as delicate as a sunflower," He taunted with cold satisfaction. "If something as simple as this can do this much damage, I wonder what kind of torment I could put you through if I actually tried."

Stepping over Alfred's sprawled legs with a heavy thunk of his boots, Ivan smoothly opened the restroom's door and left Alfred alone to painfully nurse his injury.


	5. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> None of the nations could see what was going on right in front of their eyes. Despite witnessing some of their own people suffer the exact same way. The signs, the warnings, were too isolated. They each have a piece of a giant puzzle that they didn't now about yet.

Humans were so strange to Tony. There was no way to describe why, they just were. Maybe it was how they expressed themselves, how they spoke, how they composed themselves? He didn't know, they just were.

Personifications, as Alfred had told him they were called, were even stranger. They were practically humans themselves, yet they completely weren't at the same time. Like the humans, personifications talked strangely, expressed themselves strangely, carried themselves strangely. Like his kind, aliens as Alfred told him (though Tony found it a ridiculous name), personifications were stronger both mentally and physically, more connected with one another despite their differences, knew more than these humans, the list could go on and on.

America, as Tony addressed him despite being told not to (Tony preferred to make him seem less like those strange humans), was personally the strangest out of either of these creatures. Tony just couldn't quite figure him out; he was a walking mess of contradictions. He loves to spend his free time playing violent video games, yet hates war. He carelessly leaves the house door unlocked, but leaves a gun under his pillow. He's frightened of the unknown- ghosts, the dark- but fascinated by it at the same time- the ocean, the sky, hell even Tony himself. Where America would have tucked his tail and ran for the hills if a strangely colored flying insect buzzed by him, he stood defiant and befriended Tony. Tony the strange being who was considered a dangerous monster on this planet. Tony the curious genius rejected by his home, and all the planets he attempted to flee too. Tony the-

"N-No! I f-fucking wo-n't!"

That was another strange thing about America. If they were best friends, then why was he yelling and cursing at him?

"Fucking bitch." Tony tried reasoning, his robotic voice echoing all throughout the house despite his even tone. He solidly knocked a grey hand on the bathroom door, frowning in frustration when it merely shook against his tight fist and refused to break.

"J-Just leave m-me alone!" An enraged voice yelled though chattering teeth. Well, yelling was an exaggeration Tony supposed. If he hadn't had super hearing, then he wouldn't have heard the nation's harsh whispers.

There was another strange thing about America. He said he was going to take a quick shower, but had been an hour since he entered the bathroom.

"Damn dick cunt."

"Why? Why the h-hell do you think?! I'm a g-goddamn whale, a-and goddamn whales like the w-water!"

"Bastard fucker shit."

"H-Hey! That was t-too a good answer and I don't care if Willie gets offended by that!"

"Asshole!" Tony finally snapped, loosing his patience with the stubborn American.

With a snap of his fingers, a futuristic ray gun appeared in the alien's hands. Backing up a few steps from the door and widening his stance, Tony held tightly to the gun and pulled the trigger. An electric blue ray of light shot out of the barrel, dancing almost like lightning, and hit the door's brass hand with a powerful crack. The bathroom door swung in and slammed into the bathroom wall with a bang so loud it left a dent in the wall and echoed all through the house.

Sloshing water over of the four-legged claw tub onto the tile floor, Alfred scrambled in the bathtub's farthest corner from Tony, shakily clutching the ceramic edge tightly. "G-Get the hell o-ut, ya fucking a-alien!"

Another strange thing about Alfred. He hated it when the other nations called him an alien, yet here he was doing the same thing. Maybe it had something to do with his eyes leaking. Tony didn't really know why that happened to the creatures on this earth, but he figured the liquid running from their eyes had some sort of chemical in it that made them more hostile.

Storming to the tub defiantly, Tony paid no mind to the freezing water prickling his feet or soaking his arms as he pulled on Alfred's thin foot.

"D-Don't look at me, jesus christ! L-Let go!" The American protested with tears in his eyes, barely hanging onto the edge of the tub as Tony pulled and lifted his cadaverous naked body out of the ice-cold water and over the edge of the bathtub, his ligaments and veins showing visibly. A week ago, it would have be a tremendous feat to pick up America, but now it was far too easy to pick the personification up for his liking.

"Motherfucker!" Tony yelled in victory and surprise once America finally lost his grip and they both fell to the floor.

"Don't be h-happy about this!" Alfred hissed though chattering teeth as he somehow managed to stand even with his convulsing body threatening to collapse and him almost falling on the slick tile. Roughly shoving Tony into the sink, stomped by and grabbed a green towel from the wall before wrapping it around himself. With one spindly hand holding the towel to his bony hip, he jabbed an accusing finger at his friend. "I thought I c-could trust you! I thought I-I could live in m-my own house with out you brea-thing down my neck, just like T-Toris did!"

Picking himself up from the wet floor, Tony spat out a persuading, "jesus christ!"

"What do you me-an for my own good? W-What do you think I'm doing?"

"Balls damn!"

"H-How many times do I have to tell y-you? The fu-ucking pills are for migranes, not-"

"Bastard!"

"It's just a bath f-for god's sake! I'm not trying to off myself or a-anything so leave me alone!"

"Fucking son of a bitch!"  
"I have-n't lost that much w-weight! This isn't k-killing me, it's making me better!"

"Dumbass-"

"You know what?  _Screw you_ , Tony! Screw you!" Alfred abruptly spun on his heels and left the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

He was strange- Tony that is. He wanted to chase after the American, but he didn't. He just stood there, shivering violently, though not nearly as bad as Alfred was. He just stood there listening to his best friend slam open and close dresser drawers and closet doors, and listened to the freezing rain pelting against the farmhouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, sorry this is sooo late. I've been busy with play and a music contest these past few weeks, it slipped my mind.  
> Yep, Willie the Whale. Excuse 1) I truly suck at names. Excuse 2) America is cheesy dork and would totally name his whale that.
> 
> Thanks for you're guys' support. I really appreciate it.
> 
> By the way, my Beta says hi! : )
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter and will leave a review on your thoughts.


	6. Japan

_Warning #6_

_Japan_

With the stressful G8 meeting yesterday, Kiku was extra thankful for his alone time spent in his own country. Sitting on his back porch looking into the rock garden, he idly stroked his cat's soft fur and savored the beautiful afternoon. Sunlight trickled through white fluffy clouds and lush trees and a gentle breeze balanced out the temperature. Everything was quiet and peaceful, the only sound was the soothing purr of the black and white cat sitting beside him.

Unfortunately, this bliss was disturbed by a loud ringing coming from inside his house. Kiku had half the mind to not answer and just let it ring, but reasoned it would be rude. With a small sigh, he rubbed his cat's head one more time and rose.

"Konichiwa," the humble Japanese man greeted monotonously in his native tongue as he answered the home phone.

"It's raining..." a soft, sluggish voice stated through the phone.

Blinking in shock, Kiku managed to recognized the language difference stuttered out in English, "Alfred-san? I-Is that you?"

"Hey, just call me Alfred. We're friends right?"

"...Hai," he answered softly, still worried by the lack of yelling and energy coming from Alfred.

"Good..."

With the conversation falling flat and leaving him confused, Kiku changed the subject. "What is that noise in the background?"

"I told you, it's the rain. It's been like this forever it seems. Not that it's a bad thing, but... What's it like over there?"

"It is nice... relaxing," Kiku answered honestly, yet cautiously. He took a moment to think about what Alfred meant about rain. Hopefully it actually was because of the climate and not the dreadful thought that kept creeping up in the back of his mind. "How long has it been raining? Why is it raining?"

A long pause and then a crushed voice.

"I don't know."

Kiku's stomach dropped and his mind swam at the sound of Alfred's voice. It was too soft, to sluggish. It even cracked halfway through his answer and a sharp breath could be heard right after. Pushing the idea of Alfred crying to the back of his mind, he continued to search for answer as to why the American called. "How are you feeling-"

"It's actually kinda nice, you know."

"W-What?" God, why was he stuttering? He's dealt with this sort of stuff before, he's dealt with _Alfred_ before. _W_ _hy_ is he so afraid?

"The rain, it's kinda nice."

"Alfred-san, are you outside? P-Perhaps you should go visit your brother and have him make sure you won't become ill-"

"Nah, I'm too tired. That's why I kinda like the rain right now, it's soft and droning- like a lullaby. Heh, it's actually making me pretty sleepy. I like sleeping you know? It's like death, but without the commitment. Not that I would know... Kind of sucks ass."

"Alfred, I'm coming over-"

 

"No!" Kiku almost dropped the phone at Alfred's surprisingly loud response. "Y-You can't, Kiku! Not now, I'm not better yet, you can't look-At the next meeting- at the next meeting, you can come over. Trust me by then I'll be perfect a-and- don't come now. _Please_."

"I-I..." Kiku opened and closed his mouth shut like a fish out of water as he scrambled for something to say. For once in his life he didn't want to be quiet and contempt.

For once in his life he didn't know what to say.

There was a loud thud from the other line followed by a faint, muffled curse.

"Sorry, I dropped my phone. I'm getting kinda shaky, so I'll have to let you go," Alfred said, his voice grinding against Kiku's ears. "Bye."

"Alfred! Please-"

Click.

Kiku lowered the phone from his ear and looked at it horror.

He was suddenly aware of himself- he was shaking all over, even his breathing was irregular and difficult. He resisted the urge to race to the bathroom and relieve the acidic taste in the back of his throat and dull pain in his gut. With trembling fingers, Kiku quickly dialed a number on the house phone, having to restart twice as his thumbs kept accidentally pressing the wrong button. He could barely keep patient as he stood there waiting anticipation for the person to pick up the phone.

One ring

Two rings

Three rings

Four ri-

"He-Hello?" A quiet, groggily voice finally answered with a twinge of annoyance. "Do you even know what time it is-"

"William-san, it's Alfred."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... Chapters will probably be getting short from here on out, but it also means that this story will be updated more often. We're not too far from the end, so don't fret.
> 
> Thanks for all of the support, you guys!


	7. Canada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> None of the nations could see what was going on right in front of their eyes. Despite witnessing some of their own people suffer the exact same way. The signs, the warnings, were too isolated. They each have a piece of a giant puzzle that they didn't now about yet.

Matthew released a dejected sigh and let Tony pull the front door close behind him with a heavy thud, cringing at the faint click of the lock being turned from the inside. Trotting down the front porch, he was careful to avoid the broken shingles. He solemnly side stepped large puddles of muddy water and broken tree branches as he made his way through the driveway and slide into his small red truck.

Just as he was about to start the vehicle, a wave of depression and guilt over took him and he let his head thump onto the steering wheel. He couldn't help but think that he had failed his duty as a brother- as a twin.

He knew from since the World Meeting three weeks ago that there was something wrong Alfred. There wasn't anything too obvious, just little things that only he would know about he supposed. The way Alfred laughed a little too hard, smiled a little too wide...

Then the next week at the G8 meeting, he knew what was different. It had happened years ago and it seemed Alfred fell back into his anorexia.

As soon as Alfred stormed out, Matthew wanted to go after his brother- to talk to him, to help him, to do anything he could. But he didn't... He didn't want to confirm his suspicions, he didn't want to have to go through with  _that_  again. He just let Russia follow Alfred instead. Like the coward he was.

He didn't think about it until four days later when Kiku contacted him in the middle of the night; Matthew's blissful ignorance was shattered and he could no longer continue his selfish actions. Like the coward he was.

Guilt hit him like a kick in the face and ever since then it felt like spiders were crawling in his stomach and wrapping his heart in their silky thread, pulling it tighter and tighter. After the Japanese nation shared his suspicions about Alfred, Matthew agreed that he would look after his brother until Kiku and a few other nations arrived. They definitely needed all the help they could get if the same thing as last time happened.

First, he visited Toris and Tony to see if Alfred was still with his roommates, but found that he was not there

When asked about his twin's habits, he got the same story from the personification and alien. Alfred exercised in the middle of the night, ate little to nothing, took freezing, hour long baths, swallowed pills daily, always kept a toothbrush and a pack of gum with him at all times, punched his stomach when he thought no one was looking, kept pictures of starving children with swollen stomachs- It was too much to think about. Matthew wouldn't think about it any more. Like the coward he was.

They also said that when they tried to confront him, he would leave or change the subject. When they forced him to eat, tears would be streaming down his face and he would choke it down like it was poison. Then he would keep crying and pleading and screaming and clawing at his stomach when they forced him to wait thirty minutes after his meal. Both of them swore that they no matter how much they reasoned or fought with Alfred, he always seemed to have vanished the next.

Matthew asked to see his brother's room. They each agreed but said there wasn't much left. Upon entering, he found that they were right. The furniture in the room was fine, but everything else was destroyed- his TV, his bedside lamp, his knick-knacks, his posters, his super hero action figures, his CD's- Too much again. Matthew wouldn't think about it. Like the coward he was.

The only thing that he found that wasn't demolished was a CD he discover under Alfred's bed, the one in his house her shared with Toris. It was some rock artist that screamed about sarcasm and love and death he found out when he popped it into his car's radio. He listened to that same song over and over until he new the lyrics by heart.

"Speaking of which..." Matthew mumbled to himself as he lifted his head with a sigh, blinking away the swollen, stinging felling behind his eyes, and started his truck. Shortly following the grinding rev of his truck's engine, the crunch of a guitar and pounding of drums erupted from the speakers.

Matthew quietly sang with the music as he continued his quest to find Alfred.

**XxXxXxXxX**

Matthew crept into the driveway of Alfred's home in Pennsylvania and turned off the vehicle.

As soon as he took two step towards the two-story house, the spiders inside him multiplied. He tried not to think about it ( _coward_ ), but it didn't work.

Trembling like a leaf in the wind, he stumbled around to the back of his truck and crouched down, using the bed for support. Ducking his head, he forced a hand as far down his throat as he could. After four tries, he finally threw up. Unlike what he expected, there were no black little spiders, just a small pool of saliva.

Rubbing away a few tears from the corner of his eyes, Matthew sat down on the chalky gravel, pulled his knees to his chest, and rested his chin on his knees.

He would wait for the others, he couldn't do this by himself.

So instead of confronting his fears, he stared out at the dirt road that vanished into the dense forest. Like the coward he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, I am literally on the brink of tears, you guys. I have no idea why re-reading/editing this chapter is making me so upset...


	8. America

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> None of the nations could see what was going on right in front of their eyes. Despite witnessing some of their own people suffer the exact same way. The signs, the warnings, were too isolated. They each have a piece of a giant puzzle that they didn't now about yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you suffer from anorexia, depression, or any other type of disorder, please talk to a trustworthy friend or adult.
> 
> It will affect you and those around you in unimaginable ways.
> 
> Keep Calm and Carry On

_Ending #Error Incalculable_

_America_

America felt a dull ache in his chest and his sky blue eyes grow warm and moist. That always happened when  _he_  was about to die.

Sitting with his arms loosely wrapped around his knees, the sleeves and legs of his pristine white suit blending together, he stared at Alfred with a sad smile. He gently allowed one of his giant fluffy white wings to brush Alfred's once golden hair as if the nation was a delicate porcelain doll.

The angel sighed softly as he looked over the naked nation lying face down on the cold tile floor near the shallow bathtub. It was clear that Alfred just barely managed to roll himself out of the full bathtub before passing out, one rail-thin arm still limply hanging on the tub's edge.

His sickly gray skin was pulled tight across his body- save the slightly sagging, hollow area where is stomach should be. Practically all of his bones, tendons, even joints were clearly showing, from the minuscule bones composing his spine to the deep crevasse of his collar bone. It made him look like he was a completely different species, or like there was another creature trying to force itself out from inside of him.

_Maybe Alfred wanted to be with him?_  This thought crossed America's mind, causing him to slightly furrow his eyebrows. There wasn't really any other excuse he could find. It explained why Alfred's sharp shoulder blades looked like wings trying to break through his skin and why the young nation had jumped off so many buildings in his life.

The more America thought about this, the more his eyes hurt and he felt his cheeks grow warmer.

He had the sudden urge to remove his clothes and put them on Alfred. He wanted desperately to trade spots. with him. To take away his pain and replace it with the numb feeling that came with being an angel- well, aside from the times when the nations were at Death's door, but America was sure Alfred could live with that.

But... he couldn't. So instead, he hummed a slow, graceful song and gently stroked Alfred's dry hair, hoping that would block out all of the screaming coming from the hallway and all of the pounding on the bathroom door.

America abruptly stopped humming and froze.

He was gone. Alfred was gone.

A single, golden tear ran down America's cheek.

Face hot and eyes swollen, America mechanically laid face down on the floor next to Alfred so that their positions were mirror images of each other- except instead of his arm on the edge of the bathtub, America placed his across the shoulders of Alfred. He stared at the other's pale, slack face with morbid curiosity as he wrapped a giant wing around the cold body.

"Alfred..." the angel muttered slowly, savoring the feel of the name on his tongue. How long had it been since he spoke to his ward? A year? Huh, perhaps the real question was how long would it be until Alfred could finally hear him? "Alfred... You need to stop this, please. I don't know how it feels, but, please, stop doing this to yourself. It doesn't work, you're fated to live. No matter how many times you try to kill yourself, I'll bring you back. It's a never ending story. Just..."

Just... what? Stop it for both of our sakes'? Let me take your spot?

America didn't finish his sentence, but he knew that it didn't really matter. Not even his message mattered, because, like every other time, it went unheard to the nation's ears.

Removing his arm from around Alfred, he lightly pressed the tips of his forefinger and middle finger to Alfred's eyelids and America allowed the dull ache in his heart and warmth in his cheeks and eyes to travel down his arm to his fingertips. A ghost of a smile played on his lips as a muted gold and white glow surrounded the dead nation's body. The glow was gone as soon as it had come, causing the ache in America's chest and burning in his eyes to vanish, reviving the absence of emotion in him.

America rose from the floor and watched the small rise and fall of Alfred's diaphragm for a moment before spreading his wings as wide the small space of the bathroom would allow. With one powerful flap, he vanished upwards.

**XxXxXxXxX**

"Hey, America," Canada called softly to America in a soft, diaphanous voice.

With a slight nod of his head at the group, America greeted his brother and the rest of the group of pure angels looking down a wide hole in the wispy clouds. "Canada, England, Lithuania, France, Russia, Japan, Italy, Germany."

Squeezing beside Canada and Germany, America looked down at the hole, the ceiling of the bathroom he was just in now see-through. With a top view, he looked just in time to see their wards crashing into the bathroom and surround Alfred.

Not moving his eyes, from the scene below him, America monotonously asked Canada, "How's Matthew doing?"

"Unfortunately, they're more similar than just looks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done! Yep, last chapter, you guys!
> 
> Man, I honestly was just going to keep this as a one-shot, but dudes! Eight chapters! I may not have been able to include everything I wanted, but still- sadkjfsdjkf
> 
> Thank you sooo much to everyone who took this time to read this story, and to everyone who took their time to review. Seriously, you guys are amazing and I will forever be thankful. This goes to the same for anybody who may read this after this has been completed.

**Author's Note:**

> First thing's first, I am not in anyway supporting eating disorders. It is a terrible thing to suffer, whether you have it yourself or someone you know. It affects you and those around you in unimaginable ways.  
> I would like to point out that Arthur isn't usually this snappy and intent to spout out insults (He is a gentleman after all). I just think that he truly loathes McDonalds, thus putting him in an exceptionally bad mood. This is just my fannon opinion.


End file.
